Jess and Me
by Saddletramp
Summary: AU – not totally to Laramie canon. What might Jess have become if things had been different? Inspired by the people who have loved Laramie since the beginning, those who wish they had lived in the same time period with a real Jess Harper, those who embraced Laramie's morals/sense of right and wrong, and of course those who have met Robert and fallen into the "Bob Zone"


JESS AND ME

AU – not totally to Laramie canon. What might Jess have become if things had been different? Inspired by the people who have loved Laramie since the beginning, those who wish they had lived in the same time period with a real Jess Harper, those who embraced Laramie's morals/sense of right and wrong, and of course those who have met Robert and fallen into the "Bob Zone"

_**You never know who is watching . . .so do your best**_ – author unknown

_**A person never stands so tall as when they stoop to help a child**_ – author unknown

I laid the newspaper down on the table beside me. I had folded it carefully so as to frame the face of the man I knew so well. My fingers lightly traced his picture. It had been at least twenty years since I'd seen him. He was the newest inductee into the Lawman's Hall of Fame. It would be a public ceremony. I had followed his career and knew he was deserving of the honor. I wanted to be there for the presentation. I needed to be there. I needed to tell the man how much his friendship had influenced my decision to go into law enforcement. I doubted he would remember me.

The first time I saw him, he was riding shotgun on the incoming stage. With his black hat, vest, and gloves, and with that blue silk bandanna around his neck, he cut quite an impressive figure. Although he was dusty from the trip, he was energetic and larger than life – almost as if he couldn't wait to see what was going to happen next. He'd carried the shotgun with an ease that belied its weight and the responsibility he carried as guard for the stage line. It was when he jumped down from the stage I saw it -his gun. A pearl handled six-shooter encased in a holster slung low on his hips. Not many men wore their guns like that. He was a gunslinger. He had to be. Only gunslingers wore their guns that way.

He was a compact man, tall but lithe and athletic with a gap-toothed smile that reached ear to ear. He couldn't be a gunslinger. Gunslingers weren't friendly – and certainly didn't toss a greeting to the kids of the town or tussle their hair as he went by. Friendly like – not bullying - but he did. He seemed to be friends with all the kids in town.

He was quite a bit older than we kids were. I was only ten at the time and he was, well he was an ancient twenty-something year old. We knew he had been in the war and ridden with gangs. He'd made no secret of it, yet he didn't brag on it either. He also made no secret that his choices and wild ways had landed him in prison for a year. I guess he was doing his best to teach us that the time would come when a body had to pay for what they did wrong.

Beyond that little bit of knowledge, we knew nothing about Jess. I guess what we did know came about because it was public knowledge, seeing as how he'd had to pass muster in order for the stage line to hire him. He was good at his job and a crack shot with most any weapon. The stage line assigned him some of the most dangerous jobs – guarding payrolls and gold shipments. Word spread far and wide to not mess with Jess Harper. If you robbed his coach, or hurt any of those he guarded, he'd be on your trail until Hell froze over. For that reason, most of the runs Jess guarded went unscathed.

Occasionally, some stupid fool would try to rob a payroll run. It usually ended up with the fool buried in the desert or left for buzzard bait. But there were times when things went wrong. Those times, it was bad – really bad. More than once a search party was dispatched when a stage was late. We kids dreaded those times because we knew our beloved Jess might be among the injured – or worse. We all knew the day would come when the search party didn't rescue anyone, merely recovering the bodies they could find. It was a day we hoped would never come.

_**CHAPTER TWO**_

There were five of us back then – Bobby, Terry, Sammy, Luke and me. We weren't none of us related. We just liked to hang out together. At fifteen years old, Bobby was the oldest and had known Jess the longest. At least he said he did. Sometimes I wasn't too sure Bobby told the truth about such things. Bobby had blonde hair that bleached to almost white in the summer sun. Like all the rest of us, his day-to-day clothing consisted of a set of bib over-alls and whatever shirt his ma happened to have clean for him to wear. We were all barefoot most of the time. It was summer and we didn't need footwear.

Terry and Sammy looked so much alike people thought they were twins. But they weren't and they were two years apart in age. Sammy was the older of the two. Terry wasn't as quick witted as some of the other kids, but Sammy wouldn't allow anyone to tease him about it.

Luke – well Luke was different from the rest of us. He was heavier than the other boys and clumsy to boot. He had a hard time keeping up with us if we ran anywhere, so we did a lot of walking. Luke was the eternal optimist of the group. He always saw the good side of things. He never had a bad word to say about anyone. He never talked about his folks and I'm not sure we even knew where he lived. But Luke was fun to have with us and was part of our "gang".

Then there was me – William Jackson – but everyone called me Billy. My family had just moved to Spring Water and I quickly met up with the other four boys. We became fast friends – which is how I came to know Jess Harper.

Jess never said where he lived. He'd ride in on one stage and ride out on the next. Occasionally he'd have a layover. We waited for those layovers to happen because that is when we got to tag along with him. If he didn't want us tagging along, he never said so. He'd take us swimming down to the old water hole outside of town. He taught us how to fish and then clean and cook the fish we caught. He taught us how to build a good campfire and to be responsible for extinguishing it. He taught us how to track and read sign. We never realized he was actually teaching us anything because we had so much fun doing it. Unbeknownst to us, the skills he taught us would come in handy as we were growing up and would shape our futures.

It was the best summer of my life. Ma and Pa were settling in to our new home and getting crops planted. They didn't want me underfoot, so didn't care that I took off with the other boys. Pa always called after me with a warning to stay out of trouble. I knew what would happen if I didn't. I didn't care for a trip to the woodshed to learn the error of my ways. Therefore, the other boys and I stayed out of trouble as much as we could.

Sometimes trouble just found us. It wasn't our fault the local saloon was the only place exciting things happened. We weren't allowed inside, of course – but Jess was. We'd crowd around, looking under the batwing doors. He was easy to spot with the black hat, dark hair, tall boots, and the way he wore his gun. No one else in town wore their gun that way and it fascinated us. But his gun, and his reputation with it, were something he'd never talk to us about. He said we were too young to know about some things and some things were better left to one's parents. He said being a fast gun was nothing to brag on and could get one a quick trip to the graveyard. We had read all about gunslingers in the penny novels. We knew all about holsters, fast draws, and shootouts – at least we thought we did.

_**CHAPTER THREE**_

It was another hot and boring day. Jess only had an hour before he had to ride out again so had begged off going anywhere with us boys; seeking a comfortable chair and a cooling drink at the saloon. The bartender had caught us looking under the batwings a couple times and had chased us away. We learned to sneak up; taking turns to see what was so interesting in the establishment where we weren't allowed. There were painted ladies in there. Our parents would have tanned our hides if they'd known we were ogling the women in fancy dresses, which revealed a whole lot more than we'd ever seen before.

Jess was leaning against the bar, shot glass in hand. Instead of gulping it down like the other men, he seemed to be nursing it, making it last as long as possible. There was a scruffy man at the end of the bar. He kept eyeing Jess. We didn't know why and he sure didn't seem friendly. Jess ignored him until he started to speak.

"You're Harper, aren't you?" he questioned.

Jess barely turned his head, yet took a full measure of the man addressing him.

"That's what I go by." Was Jess' calm answer as he casually took another sip of his drink.

"Hear you're fast with that gun."

Jess shrugged his shoulder. "I guess that depends upon who you ask. I'm faster than some and slower than others."

"Well, I wanna find out for myself." The man was becoming belligerent, challenging in his voice and demeanor.

Jess set his glass down on the bar, turning to face the man. His right hand purposefully staying on the bar, away from his gun. "Look, I got nothing against you. I'm a shotgun rider for the stage lines – nothing more, nothing less. I got no need to be fast and no need to prove it to anyone." With that, he turned back to his drink, both elbows resting on the bar.

"I say you're a liar. You're fast and got a reputation. I wanna see just how fast you are."

Jess was still calm when he again turned to face the stranger. "Look, friend, I got no reason to draw on you. I just want to enjoy my drink while I wait for the next stage out."

"I ain't your friend." Growled the man. His posture was threatening and clearly indicative of an about-to-be gunfight.

Suddenly, there were chairs scraping across the wooden floor as bystanders rushed to get out of the line of fire. Several patrons exited quickly, destined to find the sheriff before there was bloodshed. Never having seen a gunfight, we eagerly crowded in the sparse area under the batwings. We were going to see our first real gunfight – and Jess was involved. We'd get to see just how fast he really was.

It was over in the blink of an eye. The scruffy man went for his gun. We could see him about to clear leather when Jess' gun blared. He had drawn so fast that none of us saw him even move. The man lay on the floor of the saloon, a pool of blood seeping out from under him. His mouth was agape, his eyes open, and his body twitched as his life slipped away. And the blood – there was so much blood pooling around him. I'd never seen so much blood. This was nothing like the novels we had read where the villain died quietly and neatly. I'm not sure which one of us boys moved first. If anyone had been watching us, they would have seen the five of us dashing to the back alley where we promptly lost our breakfast. Luke was crying. He'd never seen a dead man before and he was now scared. The rest of us were trying to calm our stomachs. This wasn't what we had expected to see. The stories had made a gunfight sound so exciting. I guess, in the stories, it wasn't real that someone actually lost their life.

We heard footsteps behind us. We turned to see Jess standing there, his holster empty. He knelt so he'd be closer to our height and motioned us to come to him, his arms held outstretched. We almost bowled him over as four of us rushed to him to be comforted. We were all crying now – except for Bobby. Bobby stood to the side, a strange look upon his face. Maybe he thought he was too old to be comforted, but I was sure glad Jess was there right now.

"I wished you hadn't seen that." He began. "But now you know – there ain't no glory in a gunfight. Someone lives and someone dies. Sometimes they both die. But that man in there – I tried to talk him out of it. I didn't want no fight. But because he did, and he wouldn't let it go, I had to defend myself. Now, because of me, there's a widow with children and no one to take care of them. His little ones will be wondering when their daddy's coming home – only he ain't coming home no more – and I have to live with that the rest of my life."

His voice was sad as he told us that. He wasn't lecturing nor trying to teach us; just explaining the reality of it all. Nevertheless, we took it to heart. We did a stretch of growing up that day – whether we wanted to or not. Reality had intruded upon our world of make believe. He used his handkerchief to wipe our eyes and blow our noses. Then he suggested we all go home and talk to our parents about what we had seen. Of course, that also included admitting we had been somewhere we shouldn't oughta been and seeing something we shouldn't oughta seen. He never said it aloud, but we somehow knew honesty was in his code of ethics. He wouldn't lie. He didn't sugar coat what had just happened in the saloon. Clearly, he expected honesty from those he dealt with – including us kids. We'd have to take whatever punishment our parents dished out. I think he knew what we had witnessed was punishment enough and our parents would let us off this one time. He'd turned then, returning to speak with the Sheriff before collecting his gun and riding out with the next stage.

_**CHAPTER FOUR**_

Witnessing the gunfight was a turning point in our lives. While we still played, it was a long time before we ever played shootout again. Even then, our "victims" were merely wounded. We never again pretended to shoot someone and have them die. By the time we were old enough to handle real guns, the responsibility for carrying them had been thoroughly ingrained upon us.

It was a couple of weeks before we saw Jess again. This time he brought a suitcase with him. Previously, he'd barely brought more than a bedroll. Naturally, we were curious. It was then we learned he had agreed to become Deputy Sheriff in our town. He warned us that it was only temporary – just something he wanted to try out. He hadn't quit his job at the stage line, merely requested a leave of absence. He also warned us that when he was on duty, he couldn't be fooling around with us. His responsibility was to the town and loyalty to the Sheriff. He assured us he'd have time off when he could still take us to the pond and maybe even do some more tracking and such. We understood and promised not to be a nuisance when he was working.

We still idolized Jess so were often underfoot more times than we should have been. He never got angry with us unless we were really causing trouble. He was fair in how he handled situations, whether settling a neighbor's dispute or settling down an exuberant cowhand. Although he rarely used his gun, his reputation had grown to the point gunslingers started coming to town for the sole purpose of taking him on. He was as good with his fists as he was with his gun, using the former and avoiding the latter as much as possible.

We watched Jess and mimicked him whenever and wherever possible. Our idolization of him carried over into how we handled situations and confrontations. Luke studied Jess the most. He was always asking Jess why he handled a situation a certain way. Jess taught him what he knew about the law and how it dictated his actions. He'd taken an oath to uphold those laws and be guided by them. He had to see both sides of a situation before he could determine the right or wrong of it. We learned to listen and think before acting, to find justice for both parties. Luke became an expert at this. It was little wonder he would later become a lawyer.

Bobby, being older, started to pull away from us. He found us to be too childish for him to hang around. While he had also lost his breakfast from seeing the gunfight, he seemed to like the violence. He started being mean to Terry and Luke. He called Terry stupid and Luke a crybaby. He'd shove them off the sidewalk when we were walking together, or purposely trip them. When Sammy stepped in to stop the bullying, he often found himself in a no-holds-barred fight – which he most often lost. For some reason, Bobby ignored me. Being the youngest, maybe he felt I was too young to bother with.

**_CHAPTER FIVE_**

Bobby soon found himself another set of friends to hang out with. He even dressed like them – shirt tucked into belted pants and he wore boots. How he got the money for those duds, we never could figure out. We suspected he had stolen them. The three of them – Jason, Ken, and Bobby - became the troublemakers of the town. They thought nothing of stealing from Mr. Gibbon's store or an unwatched buckboard. The other two boys were going on 17 and carried guns. Bobby practically worshiped them as they practiced drawing and shooting. Sometimes one of them would loan Bobby a gun and let him shoot it.

One day I saw Bobby with a gun. I didn't know where he had gotten it. Sammy, Terry, and I were fishing when we heard gunshots. Curious, we followed the sounds and spotted Bobby practicing his shooting and fast draw. There was something different about him – something which scared us a whole lot. It was the look upon his face. It was twisted, almost evil as he handled the gun as if it was a part of him. He was accurate – and fast. We wondered who had taught him to draw like that. We knew it wasn't Jess. Jess had refused to teach us anything about gun fighting. Jess, with our parent's permission, had taught us how to handle a gun safely and shoot accurately. He had taught us to track and hunt game. But he never, ever taught us about being a quick draw.

Bobby, Jason, and Ken started getting into trouble. First it was just dumb kids' stuff – stealing inexpensive things. Not that that was right, but at least it didn't involve hurting another human being. They dominated the sidewalks, forcing anyone else trying to use them to end up in the street. Sheriff Turner had pulled them aside and given them a talking to more than once. Every time he talked to them, it seemed they'd get into some new kind of trouble. The day came with they threw a barrel through Mr. Gibbons' storefront window. Sheriff Turner caught them red-handed and hauled all three of them to jail. Bobby was madder than a hornet at being locked up. His parents didn't come for him and didn't pay the fine or his share of restitution to Mr. Gibbons. They told Sheriff Turner they disowned him. The County could do as they pleased for punishment. Maybe a work farm would do him some other two boys came back with the money so Bobby wouldn't have to go work off his debt.

It seems like their brush with the law would have straightened out Bobby and his two friends. It did the exact opposite. They got bolder and meaner. Mr. Gibbons tried to keep them out of his store, but they pulled a gun on him; taking whatever they wanted. They clubbed him senseless before taking all the money in the till and the goods, laughing at how clever they were,before heading to their "big job".

Jason and Ken had been eyeing the bank for quite a while. They knew the banker and the tellers. They also knew the vault was unlocked during the day. In spite of their unruliness in town, they had always behaved themselves while in the bank. Therefore, neither the banker nor the teller was alarmed when the two older boys entered. Within minutes, they had tied up the bank's occupants and cleaned out the vault. They used the back door to exit and meet Bobby who was holding their horses. They had no sooner mounted than they heard a woman scream and men were shouting that Mr. Gibbons had been robbed and was hurt.

Jason and Ken panicked. They thought someone had discovered the bank robbery. They bolted from behind the bank, yelling and whipping their horses and snapping off shots. Sheriff Turner was in the middle of the street when they cut him down in a hail of bullets. Jess had heard the ruckus and now stood in the middle of the street, firing shots at the fleeing felons. He shots were accurate, felling both Jason and Ken. He didn't notice Bobby quietly ease his horse into the street from the opposite direction. Gun in hand, he turned his horse sideways, leveling the revolver at Jess's back. A woman screamed, pointing at something behind him. Jess spun around just as Bobby fired. For a moment, the world moved in slow motion as I watched Jess reel under the bullet's impact, he gun flying from his hand. It threw him backwards where he then spiraled to the ground, face down, and lay still.

Bobby sneered at the fallen Sheriff and Deputy. Although he'd lost his two friends, they had taken revenge on the miserable law dogs that had ruined their fun. However, he had no time to savor taking down his former hero. Shots were now raining his way. He turned and fled the town without looking back; laughing because he still carried the loot from both the store and the bank.

**_CHAPTER SIX_**

The four of us froze in our tracks. Jess hadn't moved and we were afraid to go near him – afraid he was dead. We didn't want to see Jess dead. Luke was crying. I started to say something then realized all four of us were crying. If crying over our friend made us crybabies, then so be it. We watched in fascinated horror as the men folk picked up the Sheriff and his Deputy, carrying them off the street. It was then we realized they were carrying Sheriff Turner to the undertakers; but they were carrying Jess towards the doctor's office. Could it be? Was Jess still alive?

We waited with the crowd outside Doc's office for what seemed forever. When Doc stepped out of his office to address the crowd, he was grim. By some miracle, Jess had survived, but he was still in grave danger for infection. The bullet had passed through his shoulder muscle, missing both bone and anything vital. He'd be able to return to his duties in a few weeks. Relieved, the crowd drifted away.

I didn't realize I was the only one still standing on the porch until the doctor spoke to me.

"Billy, you need to go home." He said kindly.

With tear filled eyes I looked up at the doctor. "Please, sir, may I see Jess? I gotta know. I gotta see him for myself."

The doctor was about to rebuff me when he suddenly reconsidered. "All right, Billy, but only for a few minutes. He's asleep and I don't want him disturbed."

"Yes, sir." I nodded. "Just let me know when I have to leave. I don't want to do anything to hurt him."

He put a gentle arm around my shoulders and led me to the room where Jess lay. "Remember, only a few minutes." He said starting to leave.

"Is he in pain?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Not right now. I gave him something for the pain and to make him sleep. Sleep is the best thing for him right now. It's how the body heals."

I nodded as if I understood. The doctor left me alone with Jess. He was so pale it scared me. I'd seen him when he had been hurt before. But not like this. Him lying there so still was contrary to his seemingly endless energy. I sat on the chair next to his bed, content being with him. I wanted to touch him, convince myself he was alive, but the doctor had told me not to disturb him so I just sat and watched him breathe. It seemed I'd just sat down when the doctor told me it was time to leave.

I visited Jess the next day, happy to see him propped up in bed and awake. It was strange seeing the bright white sling supporting his left arm. It was such a stark contrast to his sun darkened skin. He was still groggy from the medicine but smiled when he saw me and patted the edge of his bed for me to sit beside him. We didn't talk about much, but I sure felt better knowing he was going to be okay.

I visited him every day until the doctor released him. I went with him back to his hotel room and helped him settle back in. He tired easily so I left him to rest. It was about a week before he was moving around normally.

While he had been laid up, the town council had hired a new sheriff. As soon as Jess reported for duty, he first assignment was going after Bobby. Sheriff Stanley had already put flyers out on him. A sheriff three days ride away had seen the flyers and arrested Bobby. Sheriff Stanley wanted Bobby brought back to stand trial. He was wanted for murder, attempted murder, and bank robbery. No matter how you sliced it, Bobby would hang for murdering Sheriff Turner, even though he hadn't actually pulled the trigger. Because he had been in on the robbery, he was just as guilty as his friends who had done the deed.

**_CHAPTER SEVEN_**

I stood beside Jess as he finished tying his bedroll behind his saddle. His jaw was set and I could tell his shoulder was still troubling him some. Finally, he let out a long sigh and turned towards me.

"You know I gotta do this, don't ya?" He asked me.

I nodded. Bobby had done wrong and was going to have to pay for it.

"You know what's going to happen when I bring him back."

Again, I nodded my understanding.

"Damn fool." He said to no one in particular. "He's just a kid and I gotta go after him just to see him hang."

He shook my hand and promised to come back. He had no idea how much I held onto that promise, how much I wanted and needed to see him again.

It was only three days over and three days back, yet it was a good three weeks later when Jess rode back into town – alone. He looked dirty and tired. His normally square shoulders were slumped in sadness, his body moving in harmony to his horse's rhythmic walk. We didn't have to ask why. He'd wired Sheriff Stanley that Bobby was dead and Sheriff Stanley had had to go break the news to Bobby's folks. The news filtered through town rapidly

By the time Jess had gotten to the town to transport Bobby, he had escaped jail, killing the sheriff from that town. Jess had then trailed Bobby across many miles, before almost catching up to him in some backwater town with no name. I say 'almost' because when Jess got there, Bobby was already dead. He'd gotten into a gunfight with another gunman and lost his life.

The four of us crowded around Jess like we always did, only he was different – distant. He told us he needed to be alone and think some things through. We didn't understand why because he'd just spent three weeks out on the trail alone. It wouldn't be until years later we would understand the toll Bobby's death had taken on him. He hated to see any life wasted – but he especially hated it when it was a young life.

Things were different after that. Sheriff Stanley was a lot more strict about us boys hanging around Jess while he was on duty. It wasn't as much fun as when we used to be able to follow him around and listen to his easy laugh. We still sneaked peaks under the saloon's batwing doors, that is – until Jess caught us at it. He threatened to tell our parents. We knew he wasn't bluffing. On Jess' days off, he still took us fishing. But it was a very sad day when he told us he was leaving.

He'd been offered a Sheriff's job down in Texas. He didn't have any kin left there, but he wanted to go home to the state where he'd been born. He spent his last precious days before leaving with us - in Spring Water. I don't know if he understood how important that was to us. He could have done anything those last three days before he left – but he spent them with us.

On the day he left, Jess shook hands with each of us, wishing us a good life before turning and climbing into the shotgun seat beside the driver. He'd decided to leave the way he had arrived – aboard the stagecoach.

We waved until we couldn't see the stagecoach anymore. It was the last time Terry, Sammy or Luke would ever see him. Occasionally, a newspaper from Texas would drift through our town. Sometimes there would be articles on Jess. He worked his way up from County Sheriff to Federal Marshal.

The town was quiet without Jess there to liven it up for us. Regardless, we knew we were different because of the summer we spent with Jess Harper.

I often thought about everything that Jess had taught us. I don't know if he intentionally taught us those things or if we just learned by following his example. Honor, truth, loyalty, dedication to job, respect for the law, and compassion were just some of the things he taught us which would guide our career decisions in years to come.

Years went by and the four of us remained fast friends. Terry became a teacher. He liked books and sharing his knowledge, opening new worlds to his students. Sammy was skilled at metalwork. He could fashion anything you could draw. He drew most of his work from shoeing horses, but he could fire a wagon wheel rim faster and better than anyone else we knew. Luke did go on to become a lawyer. He had a strong sense of justice and right and wrong. He felt compelled to make sure people got fair treatment in the court system.

**_CHAPTER EIGHT_**

As for myself, I went into law enforcement. Watching Jess when he was a deputy and seeing how he took care of things influenced my choice. I wanted to be just like him. I wanted to keep the peace and help people where I could. After Jess left, Sheriff Stanley let me hang around the office. He let me borrow the town's law books. I didn't understand everything, but he was patient and taught me what they meant. He taught me about the meaning of the law, the intent of the law and the letter of the law. Jess had taught me to read sign and track. Sheriff Stanley taught me how to investigate. It always amazed me how something that seemed obvious, often had many twists and turns before we found the truth of the matter.

When I was old enough, Sheriff Stanley took me on as his deputy. He said he'd spent so much time teaching me he figured he'd just put me to work. We spent several years together before he retired and I became Sheriff of Spring Water. It was a good town and a good life – but I wanted more. I wanted to do more, learn more and travel more. A job opened up in Texas – Jess' home state. I don't know if that's what influenced me to apply for the San Antonio position or not. But I did and I got the job. Even though the odds were slim, I always hoped our paths would cross again.

San Antonio was different from Spring Water. There were more people and more activity – and more crime. I was always busy with one case or another. My investigative skills came in handy and my promotion to Detective came quickly. However, I had my sights set on something higher – the Texas Rangers. They had already established themselves as an elite group of lawmen. It is what I wanted more than anything else.

It took me several years to qualify. One of the proudest days of my life was when I took my oath and pinned the Texas Ranger badge upon my chest. I wished I knew where Jess was so I could thank him for setting me on this path.

_**CHAPTER NINE**_

Being in law enforcement, you get to see the inter-working of the agencies. Therefore, it was only a matter of time before I heard the name Jess Harper. He had stayed with the Marshall Service all the intervening years, where he pioneered laws and procedures regarding juvenile offenders. Apparently, his experience with Bobby had influenced his life just as he had influenced ours. Jess had been good at his job, garnering many awards over the course of his career.

When people spoke of him, it was always with respect. Jess had earned his reputation for being one of the best the service had seen. I was lucky enough to attend a conference where he was the guest speaker. It was amazing seeing the man I had known when I was a child. He was the same Jess I remembered. A little older, a little wiser and still a man many looked up to for guidance. I didn't get a chance to talk to him that day, although I had tried to work my way through the crowd to get next to him. Sadly, it wasn't to be; he had other engagements and was whisked away as soon as he was through speaking.

_**CHAPTER TEN**_

Now here I was twenty years later, sitting at the back of the room, waiting to watch the man I admired inducted into the Hall of Fame. I was wearing my best suit and tie, my Ranger badge clearly visible. When I looked around, I saw many other badges. So many people were here to pay homage to the men and women who had dedicated their lives to the advancement of law enforcement.

He wasn't ten foot tall like I remembered. However, that was okay; he was still the man I had known. He was slightly thinner than when I had last seen him. His hair was gray and he moved a little slower than those days back in Spring Water. The sparkle in his eyes was as bright as ever and his smile was like someone welcoming you home again. This was the man, the myth and the legend all rolled into one.

As he humbly accepted his award, he looked out over the audience. I thought his misty eyes stopped when they looked my way. But that couldn't have meant anything. I hadn't seen him in too many years for him to ever recognize me. I'm sure it was wishful thinking.

After the ceremony, I tried to work my way towards him through the hundreds of people in attendance. I was afraid he would leave before I got a chance to meet him. He was lost in the crowd before I even got close to him. Suddenly there was an event volunteer beside me, asking me if my name was William Jackson. When I nodded, he asked me to follow him. Confused, I did as asked. He led me into a separate room and asked me to wait there. Still confused, I sat down, wondering what this was all about. Then Jess was there before me, calling me Billy and extending his hand to shake mine. As I stood to shake his hand, he suddenly encompassed me in one of his gigantic hugs. For a moment, I was a little boy again. I couldn't help remembering the day the stagecoach shotgun/gunfighter had comforted four frightened little boys.

We talked for hours. The years melted away as we caught up on each other's lives. He was pleased to hear how well Terry, Sammy, and Luke were doing. With great sadness, we remembered Bobby. It still bothered him that he hadn't been able to turn Bobby around, set him on the right path.

All too soon it was time for us to part company. Watching him walk away, I truly hoped our paths would cross again. I continued to follow his career as he blazed reform for juvenile delinquents, giving them a chance to turn their lives around. He was quoted as having said someone gave him a second chance and he was just passing on the favor.

Occasionally, I pass through the Federal Marshall's headquarters. Every time I'm there, I stop to read the plaque mounted on the wall. I'll reverently touch the award and remember how I came to be in law enforcement. I became who I am because of along ago summer when a young gunfighter led by example, taking the time to set a group of kids straight in life, a man named Jess Harper.

THE END


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